


We’ll gather later, but it never feels the same

by feeisamarshmallow



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen, Hanukkah, holiday fic, tradition, warm feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21861463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeisamarshmallow/pseuds/feeisamarshmallow
Summary: The squad, celebration, family & tradition. A holidayfic.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, mostly the squad's relationship with their families
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	We’ll gather later, but it never feels the same

**Author's Note:**

> Set in season 3. 
> 
> Huge thanks to [@explodingsnapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingsnapple/pseuds/explodingsnapple) and [@vernonfielding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fielding) for their wonderful advice and betaing <3 
> 
> Title from the Good Lovelies song [Another Year to Wait](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bf7VBJgbNRo).

### Jake

_Friday, December 4th 2015_

It’s one of those rare days when the bullpen is mostly empty. Well, there are plenty of uniformed officers and a few people in the holding cell, but the rest of the squad are all out--either on a day off or following up on cases out of the precinct. Someone--probably Amy--has decorated the bullpen for the holidays. Jake picks up a pen from his desk, ignoring the half-filled form on his computer monitor, and contemplates the mini Christmas tree visible through the window in the breakroom.

Jake celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas when he was very young—his mother encouraged their Jewish-Christian mash-up celebration of the holidays, but she left the Christmas festivities entirely up to Roger. He has one vivid memory of helping Roger decorate a tree at about age six.

He had been so excited. Roger was finally paying attention to him, instead of just seeming surprised whenever Jake tried to talk to him. Jake remembers carefully putting up the ornament he made in school, a popsicle-stick reindeer. Roger started drinking, and Jake knows now that it was alcohol, but at the time he didn’t really understand. At first it was nice, Roger lifting him up to put the star on the top of the tree, singing Christmas carols in his reedy tenor voice. But Roger kept topping up his glass, and soon drank himself past the “jolly holiday spirit” stage and into “staggeringly drunk.”

Roger started to tell Jake about his relationship troubles, things a young Jake shouldn’t have been hearing. He got up from his armchair to fill up his glass, but he tripped over tinsel strewn across the floor, lost his balance and took the tree down with him. Roger started yelling and cursing a blue streak, while Jake desperately tried to placate him before Karen walked into the room.

They never did fix the tree, and Jake remembers finding his poor popsicle-stick reindeer broken in two. By the next year, Roger was gone and Jake didn’t want anything to do with Christmas. Lighting the Hanukkah candles with his mother and Nana was more than enough (and really, it was the donuts that made him buy into Hanukkah).

Next to the Christmas tree in the breakroom, someone (almost definitely Amy), has also set up a blue plastic menorah. In a world where he can’t seem to escape Christmas, and the bitter memories it holds for Jake, it’s a nice touch.

This year he’s told Amy he’ll light the candles with her, and if he’s honest, he’s a bit nervous. Not only is it their first winter holidays as a couple, but he hasn’t lit candles for Hanukkah since his Nana was alive. Jake’s not particularly religious. Come to think of it, it’s always the food that convinces him to partake in any religious event: brisket on Passover, honey apples on Rosh Hashanah, and jelly donuts on Hanukkah. But Amy’s taking him to midnight Mass, and he really wants to be able to share a tradition with her too. A tradition that holds happy memories.

He glances at his watch—it’s almost his lunch break, and he gives up on filling out the still-empty form on his monitor and grabs his coat. There’s a hotdog from the cart on the corner with his name on it. But he stops short on the way past the breakroom, the menorah and the Christmas tree sparkling under the fluorescent lights. Suddenly he finds himself dialing his mom’s phone number. He’s got a menorah back at his apartment, along with the candles and a print-out of the first night’s blessings, but he wants to check in with his mom anyway, maybe even invite her over on the last night.

### Charles

_Tuesday December 8th, 2015_

Christmas Day for the Boyles is a whole production. It rotates on a yearly schedule between all 46 Boyle cousins. Anyone who’s able to travel makes their way to whoever is hosting that year. They pull up in trailers and with tents, with extra blankets and coolers full of casseroles. There’s the annual reading of the Boyle Code, there’s the auctioning of any belongings of Boyles who died that year, there are showtunes sing-alongs and an annual sourdough cook-off.

But this year Bob and Dorothy Boyle are hosting Boyle Christmas all the way over in Arizona. For the fifth time this week, Charles puts their address in Google maps and watches the computer highlight the route. Thirty-seven hours. Too long to drive. He’s lucky to even have this rare day off before Christmas, he thinks, as he nurses his coffee while waiting for Genevieve to meet him for lunch. The cafe is crowded, the windows fogging up from the warmth. One of the workers has cut out paper snowflakes, but they’re wilted and falling off the walls from the humidity. The food is standard cafe fare, usually too bland for Charles, but it’s good coffee, and right across from Geneieve’s studio.

Charles opens a new tab on his laptop and searches flights to Arizona, and sighs. He and Genevieve have just got an apartment together, and while Charles is happy to be out of his ex-wife’s basement, he doesn’t have any money for a cross-country trip. They’ll have to make do with a FaceTime appearance.

A waiter walks past Charles’ table, bringing food to the hipster seated next to him. The scent of grilled cheese wafts over, and Charles is struck with inspiration. Cheese! Maybe from Wisconsin. France if he really pinches pennies. A nice fat goose—there’s a good place just a few hours out of the city or maybe that place in Vermont. He’s all set to make the online purchases, when Genevieve pushes through the door, bag in hand overflowing with Christmas decorations. Her face is flushed from the cold and there are snowflakes stuck to her scarf. She looks beautiful.

They’ll make the best of it. Maybe he can invite Lynn, Darlene and Gina. They can still do the Boyle Code, and the showtunes sing-along. And Genevieve’s artistic eye can rival the best of the Boyle decorators.

### Terry

_Sunday December 13th, 2015_

If Terry has to readjust his daughters’ angel halos one more time, he’s going to need more than a half-hour in his art closet to decompress. He pulls Lacey’s headband back to the centre of her head, and gently untangles the pipe-cleaner halo from her curls. This year all three of his girls, even little Ava, are part of the Christmas Pageant. While the photos they took of Cagney and Lacey in their angel outfits and Ava wrapped up in a blanket as “Baby Jesus” nearly made Terry melt, he is more than a little stressed that they’re not going to make it on time for the service.

Terry marvels, as he steers the minivan down the snow-covered Brooklyn streets, that he has such a wonderful family. Little Terry truly didn’t believe in this kind of happy future. There was no regularly attending church in Terry’s childhood. No regular anything, to be honest. No guarantee of anything but stale cereal in the cupboard. No guarantee his father wasn’t going to come home in one of his moods. But having too-few happy childhood Christmas memories only means that Terry has to make sure his daughters have enough for all of them -- for themselves and for Little Terry. He’s not mad about the past, not anymore.

He looks at his babies in the rear-view mirror--Lacey’s halo has slipped down around her ears, again, and as she struggles to pull it up Cagney reaches across her seat and yanks it. Terry turns and shares a smile with his wife next to him. He’s just thankful for the present. Except, maybe, for those halos.

### Holt

_Sunday December 20th 2015_

Raymond wonders how the congregation of Bridge Street AME managed to hang a wreath from the peak of the ceiling. He cranes his neck up as he sits in the wooden pew. A ladder would be much too small. A skyjack would be much too big. Perhaps they used a long stick. When Raymond was young, and his father was minister, they simply hung the wreath from the pulpit. This year, the front of the sanctuary is decorated with blood-red poinsettias. A Christmas tree stands to one side, a nativity scene to the other.

It’s as if his mother senses he’s not paying attention to the minister giving the Christmas sermon. “For unto us a child is born…” Holt can recite it in his sleep--he’s been to nearly every Christmas service here since his birth. But instead of nudging him sharply, Laverne takes her son’s hand. Despite himself, it reminds him of being a young boy, watching his father deliver the sermon.

To be clear, Raymond does not believe in God. For one, the probability is exceedingly low that one group of humans, in their 200 000-year history, happened upon the true and correct explanation of the universe. One would be a fool to believe. And then there’s the problem that many avid churchgoers are homophobic. While the congregation at Bridge Street AME may not be as outwardly discriminatory as the Southern Baptists that Kevin grew up with, Holt still sees the looks they give him.

Like Old Susan Brown, who side-eyes him as they rise to join the choir. To Holt’s left, Debbie mutters something about hypocritical bigots under her breath. Usually Holt would shush his little sister, but he figures, of anyone, Susan Brown deserves it.

The choir’s rendition of Joy to the World is passable, enjoyable even. And, Holt concedes, the arrangement of the wreaths, lights, and candles is quite aesthetically pleasing. He supposes he also enjoys spending time with his mother, whose one flaw is a staunch belief in the Lord and Savior. There’s a comforting familiarity to the rhythm of the service: the rising and sitting, the praying and singing.

The minister calls for the children’s choir to assemble at the front. He watches a young father rise and lead his son up the aisle. Holt only has a few memories of his father before his death. He doesn’t think of him often, but when he lets himself get overly sentimental, he wonders if he has made his father proud.

Church, and particularly Bridge Street AME, is made up of too many contradictions. Usually, that upsets him, but right now, singing with his mother and Debbie somehow seems to be enough.

### Gina

_Thursday December 24, 2015, 7:00pm_

Christmas has never been a religious holiday for the Linettis.Once, when she was a teenager, Gina asked her mother and she said their religion was, “‘90s boyband choreography and Aaliyah, bless her departed, melodic soul.” So that cleared it up. Darlene spends Christmas Day making ravioli while a steady stream of Hallmark classics plays in the background. Five-year-old Gina joined the tradition by sprinkling grated cheese on top of the finished ravioli and playing with her barbies at Darlene’s feet. Soon she graduated to grating the cheese herself and providing fashion commentary on each of the actor’s outfits.

Gina tops up her mother’s wine glass as Darlene tells her far too much about her sex life. Gina has already filled Darlene in on all her dance troupe’s drama. The fragrant aroma of tomatoes and cheese hangs heavy in the apartment. They’re making ravioli a day early, on Christmas Eve, because they’ve been invited to the Boyle’s for Christmas dinner, God help them. There’s a knock at the door, and Gina almost trips over herself opening it. Darlene’s half-sister, Mia, wraps Gina in an enormous hug, the scent of her floral perfume mixing with the tomato sauce in the doorway.

Gina supposes her mother must have spent her Christmases at a Catholic Mass, but she doesn’t know for sure--Darlene never talks about her childhood. They don’t see much family, even though Darlene is the youngest of 10 assorted siblings and half-siblings. Only Mia comes over for Christmas, and always brings Gina a box of chocolates. Her mother is far from perfect, but Gina appreciates the way she never made Gina feel like she was missing out on a father or siblings. Darlene was all she ever needed.

Gina takes another sip of her wine. She must really be drunk if she’s starting to get sentimental.

### Rosa

_Thursday December 24th 2015, 9:00pm_

Okay, so maybe Rosa deserves that look for celebrating her play in Scrabble. She let out a cry of vindication when she edged a lead over her mother with the word “zoo” on a triple letter score. Then her father scowled at her from across the room. But to be fair, her mother has been at her all night.

If Rosa could take a drink for every time her mother started a sentence with, “When Rosa was in medical school,” well, she’d be drunk enough to get through the evening, that’s for sure. Med school was almost 10 years ago. Since then, she has graduated the academy, made detective, won a medal of distinction, and still her mother can’t let go of the fact that she dropped out of med school (and business school…and the ballet academy…but isn’t it more important that Rosa’s happy?).

Luisa grumbles as she draws the last two tiles from the box, but she catches Rosa’s eye and they share a knowing look. Luisa may have driven Rosa crazy when they were kids, but it is nice to see her sisters—even if their mother uses Luisa’s daughter to subtly encourage Sofia and Rosa to have children of their own. Rosa’s not even sure she wants kids, although she concedes that little Diana is cute.

As if one cue, Rosa’s cousins come running into the kitchen, talking over each other and tripping over their words. They’re hyped up on sugar, waiting for the niño Jesus to deliver their presents. One of them, Daniel, peers over Rosa’s shoulder and reaches for her tiles before Rosa can shoo him away.

Nochebuena in the Diaz household is a big deal. And as such, it’s a celebration Rosa has mixed feelings about at best. Sure there’s good food: her mother’s Colombian tamales, and roast pork, and buñuelos, and American stuffing and gravy. And sure, it’s nice to see her sisters, her grandmother, her aunts, uncles and cousins.

Luisa plays a word on the board, capturing a triple word score and coming within 10 points of Rosa’s lead. To Rosa’s left, Sofia sighs. Sofia is 70 points behind everyone else, with no hope of competing for the win. Sometimes Rosa feels suffocated by all the relatives here in her childhood home. Too many people, too many opinions, too many ways people can passive-aggressively judge Rosa’s life decisions.

But, as long as Sofia doesn’t play in her spot, Rosa can manage to use all her letters on her next turn, even the “Y” that she’s been sitting on for the last three rounds. Sofia takes her time, but finally plays an “A” next to an empty “T”, and takes her loss on the last letter in her possession. Rosa’s done it, she’s won. She shouts in celebration, ignoring the fresh scowl her father gives her. It’s dumb, and Rosa would never admit it to anyone, but she loves these stupid games. It helps that she often wins, but it’s nice to have a few moments with her family that feel tolerable. More than nice really—she might even smile. She just can’t let her mother see.

### Amy

_Thursday December 24th 2015, 10:00pm_

The Santiagos take up three whole pews at midnight Mass. They arrive early, no doubt displacing regulars at this church. Amy’s willing to bet it’s the only time at least half of her brothers attend Mass, but tradition is exceedingly important in the Santiago household. There’s a flurry of taking off coats and settling in their seats. Jake pulls the hymnal out of the pocket on the pew in front of them and leafs through it, looking perplexed.

Amy doesn’t go to Mass often--only when she wants to clear her head, or when she feels the need to confess after chain-smoking in an attempt to calm herself. But the art history major in Amy loves the stained-glass windows and the majestic architecture of churches. She likes the way the Latin sounds. She likes the way the congregation rumbles when they reply “And with your spirit.”

St. Matthew Catholic Church is tall and sweeping. It’s white stone, with grand arches and an awe-inspiring mural painted behind the pulpit. She can hear the hum of conversation among her family members echoing off the walls as they wait for the service to begin. All eight children are present this year, along with parents, Jake, plus five sisters-in-law, one brother’s girlfriend, and a gaggle of her nieces and nephews. Only Tony’s wife is back at the apartment with their toddler. Jake’s fidgeting on one side of Amy, and she turns and catches his eye and smiles. David is sitting to her other side, looking perfect in his suit next to his girlfriend. (She’s tall, with long dark hair, legs for days and subtle, church-appropriate makeup).

Usually she would be resentful of David, but today she feels a sense of grace towards him. Maybe it’s the spirit of Christmas, maybe it’s the influence of the church, maybe it’s the promise of her mother’s food. She hasn’t necessarily forgiven David (for always beating her, for being her parent’s favourite child, for flushing her pet goldfish down the toilet before poor Goldy was actually dead), but she feels almost warm toward him. It’s a grudging, sibling-love, but it’s a love nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> Something about the b99 universe makes me want to explore these comedic characters in a very serious manner, idk why. I’d spent a bit of time fleshing out both Holt and Rosa’s family life in other fics, and it got me thinking about all of the squad’s relationships with their family, and with tradition & religion more broadly, and how that translated to the winter holiday season. 
> 
> I would be remiss to not mention two wonderful fics that inspired me to write this: 
> 
> [The First Night by Helloootricksterr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948927), who first wrote about Jake's uncertainty around celebrating Hanukkah with Amy. I'm not Jewish, and so I took a lot of inspiration from their fic. 
> 
> [las nochebuenas series by ohhush](https://archiveofourown.org/series/374921), which examines Amy's experience during the holidays, and inspired me to write this fic. 
> 
> The places mentioned are real, but all events and dates are fake. As always, please let me know if anything is grossly inaccurate, especially around the religion stuff. While I ended up doing quite a bit of research, sometimes things slip past. It was a (fun) challenge to research and write six diverse snapshots into the characters’ lives. 
> 
> Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays! Tell me what you think, or come say hi on tumblr [@feeisamarshmallow.](https://feeisamarshmallow.tumblr.com/)


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